A Shadow's Fall
by Eomara
Summary: With Justin abducted, Luther focuses on his team around him to keep himself in check. He refuses to give into any other reality where Justin wouldn't make it. An in-depth extension of S2:E2, with perspective shifting from Luther to Justin. M for language and violence.


The sirens blur into the background of the night, into the background of passing buses, cars and people. He circles the car, feeling none too much like the predator he understands people see him as. As he leans in, craning his neck to the too-brightly lit interior, he avoids making eye contact with the crime scene techs, and keeps the cracked windshield out of sight as best he can. The blood on the interior frame causes this odd near-tickling sensation in the tendons of his fingers, and he knows that feeling – the prelude to anger, to rage, to physically assaulting any nearby inanimate object.

"John, our anger's got no place here." Schenk is moving side to side on his feet, never keeping his weight steady. Luther doesn't know if it's to preempt any sudden violence or if it's because of the cold – just now he's seeing their breathing puff into the air. He doesn't feel the cold, though.

He takes in the advice from the older man, but shakes off any returning comment in favor of finding the evidence he needs right then and there to prove that Justin isn't dead. No way to get rid of a body, for one. Not enough blood, for another. This clown-masked killer wanted a circus all of his own, and this is how he created it. This was him being ring master, animal and clown all rolled into this act of kidnapping a police officer.

As the words "Cameron wants him, needs him" force themselves from his mouth, Luther tries to avoid the possible tortures that could be inflicted on Justin as he avoided looking at the spider-cracked window minutes before. But he loses his voice for a half second before adding "how to stay alive", unable to bear the thought of any other reality.

Then it becomes overwhelming, the lack of thought and faith on Gray's part, and the fear-infused attention coming from Schenk – all centered on the car. It's too much. He breaks off, needing to not be part of that despair that he can taste between his own fear and guilt if Justin didn't survive.

Sitting his own car, he swallows without thinking, doing anything he can to contain his reaction. He cannot cry here, he cannot break something here, he needs to do whatever he can to get Justin back. Closing his eyes a moment, he shakes his head, wishing that his car, this car he was sitting in right now, was the crime scene he just saw. Even with this eyes closed, he can nearly feel the blue lights flashing through his eyelids, each bright blaze simultaneously reminding him of his failure to keep Justin safe and the time wasted in rescuing him.

Dawn.

One night held in that maniac's hands, one night in captivity with that madman – one night too much for Luther's liking. Staring at the broadcaster's coverage of Justin's abduction, he can sense the frenetic energy of Gray near him, and it nearly makes him sick. The last thing he needs, Justin needs, is an overachieving kid who will jump at the slightest clue.

The one person keeping him tethered (besides Schenk's perpetual troubled and disappointed stare of a parent) is Benny. Steady, dependable and loyal – as he begins to link the art to his state of mind, the unbelieving stance and stare of Gray goes unnoticed. Benny, sitting behind them, quietly observes and listens. He starts ever so slightly when Luther mentions the idea of haunting, the hole Cameron's absence could leave, but as soon as he's given something to track, to trace – the 65 grand, he takes up the work with determination. Schenk pacing behind his desk doesn't unnerve him. Luther doesn't need to turn to him when he demands that no one in the room pick up the various mobiles and desk phones that Cameron is calling them on. Benny believes in him, and Luther would like to hope that his unwavering presence balances the scales for Schenk – between Gray and Benny, there's some sort of medium. As he scrubs his hands over his face, he realizes that Justin is that medium, but he can't erase his yells from his memory.

Before he can truly focus on the fact that Justin isn't dead, he's alive, yelling (and with any luck kicking the clown-faced bastard), Jenny's mum rings him. He can't explain to her sitting in the bullpen that he's got a much higher priority than her personal clusterfuck. He can't tell her that he can only imagine what "every cut, every burn, every incision" could look like, and he can't tell her how he set his jaw so hard during that call that it aches. He thinks back on the momentary warmth Schenk's hand left on his shoulder, but it only brought back the thought of Justin being torched by Cameron.

As he walks away from that apartment an hour or so later, his hand pulsing with pain and bleeding into the dirty rag, Luther knows this Biblical punishment is for taking time away from finding Cameron, from finding Justin. He growls and snarls his way through the pain, and his anger makes him clumsily fold himself into his car. He has to put Cameron on hold for just a bit longer, because he has to ease the other pain of possibly failing Jenny.

With that witness finally sorted, he returns to the office, and is relieved to only find Benny there to talk to. He can think, pace and breathe just a bit easier with Schenk and Gray momentarily inside, interviewing their lead to Cameron. Benny turned up the volume a bit, and Luther stopped his pacing to smirk ever so slightly at Schenk's "staggering tonnage of shit" speech. As much as his boss had witnessed, and as much as what he had seen had aged him, Luther didn't doubt for a second that at his prime, Schenk would never have been one to be crossed. At that moment, thankfully not on the other side of that desk, Luther was glad Schenk was on his team. That gratitude passed as he sat in front of the board – he suddenly felt it startlingly similar to promotional posters to a show, and he bit back a swell of nausea, knowing that's exactly what Cameron wanted.

He quickly put Gray in her place and glancing between Cameron's art, Cameron's crime scenes, Cameron's information, he began to feel the all the gathered knowledge fall into place. Schenk watched on, Benny worked away and Gray moved from foot to foot, simultaneously miffed at her idea being stamped out, but horrified to feel the truth of Luther's theory.

Putting Benny between himself and Gray, wanting distance between his frustration and her poorly timed apology, he focuses on the potential breadth of Cameron's targets – the children. He knows, without a doubt at that moment that Justin is alive and well. With Cameron on the move for his big show, he'd want the back up plan of having Justin on hand should his major design fall through. The thought falls to the wayside as he gets the room in motion, and then returns with the force of a physical blow when he hears Justin's voice spoken shakily through the mobile. Everything gets dropped, he trusts Schenk with this next course of action – right now he needs to recover his best mate.

There, crouching on the ground, blood soaked through the right collar of his shirt, Justin looks up at the car's approach. He can't speak the words he should, or he needs to, but knows that this bundling energy in his chest is obvious. Instead he heads round the car and pulls him into a momentarily fierce grip until he realizes it's likely hurting him. They've nothing further to say, and Schenk calls with the news about the bus.

As he follows Justin to Cameron's car, he can't stand the streaks of black dirt and blood. He hands the computer to Justin and a jumper he pulled from the back of his own car. Maybe Luther's lip twitches in something of a half smile, but he goes to pull the GPS information for Justin to review before he can think on it.

Their destination clear, Luther corrals the injured officer back to his car, making sure he's safely buckled in before he starts up. He doesn't have the patience to be trapped in traffic, knowing those children are at risk. Glancing at Justin, he doesn't ask what's on his mind, but he sees the blood already seeping into the collar of the jumper. He'd expect an empty gaze from Justin at this point, but his drive to catch Cameron overrides that pain and exhaustion. He quietly knows that Luther will bring Cameron to justice. This sentiment somehow slightly calms the impatience in the small vehicle. As soon as they break from traffic, though, Luther drives with singular purpose towards that industrial park. Ever trusting, when he tells the younger man to shield himself from view as he drives through the gate, Justin hides.

From his position, he can barely see over the dash and ruined window, but he catches a glimpse of Luther stalking up towards the VW bus after sliding across the hood of his car. He feels a fierce pride when Luther strides into the situation, focused on only one thing. With Cameron's attention on the children, Justin slides from the broken car, approaching the yelling madman from behind. Tim escaped form his grasp, running towards his schoolmates and that's his moment. He catches Cameron's focus, dismantling all his grand plans as he states the obvious: that no one is listening. Still, the following right hook barely grazed the surface of what he wants to do to the man who tortured him.

He glances for permission, even asking if Luther would like to make the arrest. The older officer gives it willingly, looking down at the fallen criminal, and for a split second, Justin sees a dark look cross his face. He wonders what might have happened had the children not been there. But when he's done reciting, he returns his gaze to Luther's retreating form, the sharp angles of his shoulders hunching awkwardly as he herded the children away from Cameron, the bus, and the terrible memories just forming.

As Justin watches the shrinking figures move down the industrial track back into the daylight, he remembers Cameron telling him that he worked so hard to become the shadows. He can see the dull green-grey eyes narrow as he hisses about what he is in the dead city, and how he is the shadow, and he is what is to be feared. But all of that crumbled to nothing – to the maskless criminal on the ground, writhing in the pain of his failure. That form resembled nothing close to Luther's: that lumbering shape, arms stretched out to shepherded the children back to safety. He hunted, attacked and brought down this so-called shadow. Luther raised his hands above his head and clasped them in a motion of a relief. Moments later, the shadows of the hall were eventually blurred and obscured by the light and Justin broke his gaze and turned to meet the oncoming sirens.


End file.
